


i gripped you tight

by adorecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Command, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorecas/pseuds/adorecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is exhausted after being unable to stop long enough to get a motel for a few days, but a visit from Castiel is enough to give him the energy for a little fooling around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i gripped you tight

Dean pushes open the motel room door, the wind’s crisp chill following on his heels like nature’s Hellhounds. His bag is slung over his shoulder, but once the door slams behind him it hits the floor. The stale room smells slightly of mold and very old air, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice as he throws himself onto one of the two identical mattresses, bedspreads of which are hideously green and yellow in color, with designs that appear to be the last remnants of a redecoration that took place in the late 70’s.

His boots are off before he can heave a sigh, and he sits up long enough to strip off his outer layers of clothing. It’s been several days since he and Sam have been able to stop driving long enough to actually rent a room for the night and Dean is not about to let a real bed go to waste. He’s down to a thin black tee that clings to his muscled form, and a pair of grey boxer briefs he’s had for several years.

He moves to the small, dingy kitchen to unpack the large bottle of Jim Bean he’s been saving, and pours a few fingers worth into a slightly worn glass from the counter. Before he can take more than two swigs, the flutter of wings alerts him to the presence of an angel.

“Cas, how the hell did you find us already? I’ve only been here two minutes and Sam’s not even back from the –”

Dean suddenly can’t speak as Castiel’s lips come colliding with his own. The taste of whiskey is still on his lips as his mouth is pried open by the angel’s forceful tongue. The kiss is passionate, but needy; Dean’s surprise quickly melts into a familiar urge that he’s been fighting for days. He hurriedly sets his glass down, reaching blindly behind him to find a solid surface, but Castiel is aggressive and Dean is backed against the countertop in seconds, the angel’s hands in his hair, holding on as though the angel was being in danger of being dragged away.

Dean pulls away, one hand on Castiel’s cheek and the other at his waist, gripping so hard it will probably bruise, but Castiel has proved he doesn’t mind the bruises – he’s proud of them, in fact.

“Cas, you okay?” Dean’s green eyes are like probes, searching every inch of the man holding onto him, checking for injury or...he wasn’t sure what else.

“It has been nearly four days, Dean.” Castiel’s matter-of-fact voice brings a sly grin to Dean’s face.

Dean’s hands, rough with use, slowly slink their way across Castiel’s chest until Dean has the man by the lapels of that dirty trench coat he’s always wearing; Castiel’s hands fall to his sides as Dean pushes the coat back, sliding it down the angel’s lean frame and letting it hit the floor. Dean can feel Castiel’s eyes glued to his face, but he only watches his own hands as they undress the other man. He undoes the tie, and agonizingly slowly he unlatches each button of Castiel’s shirt, exposing the taut skin beneath. He can feel Castiel’s anxiousness rising – it’s nearly radiating from the angel’s skin – as he takes his time, smiling to himself. The fact that the angel hasn’t moved or complained at the rate at which Dean is moving is a testament to how well Dean has trained the man to obey commands.

After several minutes, Castiel is finally standing at the edge of the flat, green-emblazoned motel bed, Dean inches from his body, still clothed. He takes a step back, allowing Castiel to drink him in, watching the angel’s blue eyes roam his form. When he holds his arms out, Castiel jumps forward to remove Dean’s shirt, slowly and gently, just the way the hunter likes. Dean’s greatest pleasure comes from watching Castiel do his absolute best to please him; the best part of this undressing ritual is the way Castiel steps so close – so close Dean can feel the heat radiating from the other man’s naked form – slipping his fingers into the waistband of Dean’s underwear. He slowly guides them over chiseled hips, down sculpted legs until they pool around Dean’s ankles.

Both naked, Dean is starting to get a familiar tingle in his groin, especially at the way Castiel never loses eye contact with him, despite their complete nudity.

Dean circles the angel, observing but not touching. He drinks in the narrow hips, the lean back, the muscled arms, the arching neck that’s aching to be kissed. He must maintain his control, however, and once he’s standing eye to eye with Castiel again, he tilts his head towards the bed, not speaking a word.

Castiel scrambles onto the mattress, quickly getting on his hands and knees. His face is inches from the pillows, his bare ass facing Dean, who can see his cock is hard by now, hanging stiff and waiting for the hunter to make his move. Dean kneels behind the man, his hands running up Castiel’s legs, slowly adding pressure as his thumbs run along the crease where ass meets thigh; his hands slowly circle back to where they began on the back of Castiel’s thin thighs and retrace their path, this time venturing further to rest on the angel’s ass. His thumbs began to work circles into the skin, luminescent even in the dim motel light. As Dean slowly inches towards Castiel’s center, he can feel the man tensing beneath his palms, eliciting a grin from Dean. He knows that this is the only time _he_ is in complete control of _Cas_ , instead of the angel popping in and out whenever he pleased, despite Dean or Sam’s protestations.

The low rumbling of arousal that began to escape Castiel’s throat was just enough to spur Dean along a little. His thumb reaches its destination – the puckered hole is warm to the touch, the skin raw and sensitive, and the moment Dean makes contact he can feel Castiel fighting the urge to tense up. He slicks up the index finger of his right hand with a quick lick of his salivating tongue, before tracing the edge of Castiel’s entrance with it. Two circles, three circles; as he rounds out a fourth circle, Castiel’s head hits the pillow, ever so softly, and Dean feels a slight push as Castiel attempts to force Dean to press into him.

On a normal night between the two of them, Dean might have left a red mark on Castiel’s ass for a pushy motion like that, but because it had been so long since they had a chance to be together, Dean is feeling extra generous. Instead, he consents, pressing the finger inside of his angel, slowly at first, but after only a few seconds, Castiel is whimpering again, and Dean takes that as a signal to move on – _Sam could be here any minute_ , he remembers – and withdraws his finger to grab a bottle of lube from his bag on the floor.

He returns quickly, slicking three fingers at once and quickly presses two into Castiel, no warning. The man barely twitches, and after a few seconds, Dean is comfortable enough to slip a third finger inside, stretching as much as he can without causing too much pain. Castiel barely registers the sensation with more than a soft moan, his habits of not speaking while Dean prepares him are still holding as well as they can when both men are becoming desperate.

Dean is entranced by the sight of himself fingering Castiel’s ass, but his hardening cock is more than a little distracting. He slowly withdraws his fingers, giving Castiel a moment to adjust to the emptiness before lubricating himself and slipping inside, sheathing his cock completely into the man splayed out before him. It’s only a few seconds before Castiel nods desperately, his head moving so hard Dean is worried he might hit it against the headboard. But Castiel is pushing back against him, grinding Dean another half inch inside, so Dean wastes no more time worrying and gains a steady rhythm of thrusts that keep both men pushing and pulling in constant waves of pleasure.

Dean’s hands are rough and strong, grasping Castiel’s hips so hard that the skin turns white from the pressure, and he knows they’ll be bruised blue and purple by morning, but neither of them care. He leans forward to run his hands up the angel’s back, grabbing at damp shoulders in a desperate attempt to delay his orgasm, the tips of his fingers digging into Castiel’s flesh, but Castiel never winces save for with pleasure. Dean watches the man’s head toss back in ecstasy, and when Castiel turns his face to the side, Dean catches his eye, and the grin that spreads across Castiel’s face is enough to make Dean lose it right then – knowing how much his lover enjoys riding him, the way his expression is pure joy and pleasure, despite the bruises forming on his hips, shoulders, and now ribs, Dean tries his hardest not to orgasm on the spot. Instead, his twines his fingers into raven hair and pulls until Castiel is craning his neck as much as he can, eyes wide and glossy with bliss, mouth hanging agape and his breathing ragged as Dean pumps a little harder into him. The sweat drips off of Dean’s chest, glistening in the cheap light of the motel room, and the beads fall in droplets as Dean leans over Castiel to kiss at his neck, sweat mixing with sweat as their bodies press together, Dean biting hard enough to mark but not hard enough to break skin.

Moments later, Castiel is biting hard on his bottom lip, reaching down to finally pump his own cock as Dean cries out, thrusting frantically into Castiel, before his legs tense and stomach hardens and he finally releases; even still, he gradually slows his rhythm and watches as Castiel finishes himself off, Dean still deep inside of him, both men utterly spent, their breath coming in ragged gasps. The ultimate reward is flipping Castiel over and regaining that intense eye contact the man is so fond of, and, Dean admits – is pretty hot. Blue eyes match green as the two men fumble over each other to lie back against the pillows, come still leaking from swollen tips. Dean grabs a t-shirt from the floor to clean them both up with, and after he’s satisfied, he pulls Castiel closer and inspects the damage.

“Geez, Cas, I didn’t mean to grab you so hard, man,” Dean mumbles, fingering the handprint shaped bruises around Castiel’s hips, and the finger marks on his shoulders and ribs, following each gentle touch with a light kiss that Castiel seems to revel in.

Castiel only smiled that mysterious smile of his, considering Dean for a long moment, as though simply appreciating his existence and wanting nothing more than to be in his presence. “I gripped you once, Dean, and I make no apologies for it. Please, do not apologize for returning the favor.”


End file.
